I first told someone I was gay when I was 17. I didn’t actually say “gay,” but muttered through ugly crying that I didn’t like girls. He was my bishop, and luckily intuitive enough to piece things together. Surprisingly, he wasn’t worried. He was very kind, and he arranged for me to meet with someone who could help eradicate those feelings. I started conversion therapy the following week.
My therapist explained my gay thoughts: I didn’t have a close enough bond with my father and was consequently sexualizing boys. My first task was becoming closer with Dad. This wasn’t easy.